


It's About Bloody Time

by Elizabeethan



Series: It's About Bloody Time [1]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anti-Baelfire, Anti-Neal, Canon Universe, Deleted Scenes, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode: s03e07 Dark Hollow, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Like Don't Read If That Will Offend You, Like Very Anti Neal, Neverland (Once Upon a Time), Neverland Renaissance (Once Upon a Time), Neverland Renaissance 2.0 (Once Upon a Time), Season 3, Smut, The Jolly Roger | The Jewel of the Realm (Once Upon a Time), anti swanfire, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-03
Updated: 2020-09-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:14:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26274715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elizabeethan/pseuds/Elizabeethan
Summary: Emma cannot believe the amount of childish stupidity she’s just endured. Two grown men, both at least 200 years old, in a life or death situation nearly getting the three of them killed over a lighter.Canon Divergent after 3x7 in which Emma finally gives Neal a piece of her mind, and Hook reads her like an open book, thus ensuing smut.
Relationships: Captain Hook | Killian Jones & Emma Swan, Captain Hook | Killian Jones/Emma Swan
Series: It's About Bloody Time [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1926880
Comments: 20
Kudos: 225
Collections: Captain Swan in Neverland





	It's About Bloody Time

Emma cannot believe the amount of childish stupidity she’s just endured. Two grown men, both at least 200 years old, in a life or death situation nearly getting the three of them killed over a _lighter._ If she wasn’t so exhausted and hot from being on this godforsaken island, she would’ve yelled at them more. She figures she probably got her point across; they can’t be fighting like this when the only thing that’s important right now is getting Henry home safely. She’s been hoping Neal would at least understand that, as his father.

She can’t shake the feelings she’s experiencing whenever she’s around Neal, ever since they freed him from the Echo Caves. She told him that she loved him and probably always would, but she also told him her secret; that a part of her wished he had died so that she wouldn’t have to relive the pain he put her through. The pain of them being together. Now, she feels like she’s doing just that. The thought of losing their chance at getting off the island with Henry safely simply because he and Hook couldn’t stop themselves from comparing the size of their respective dicks brought those feelings of panic and insecurity rushing back to her. The feeling that he doesn’t really care for her or what she wants; that he only cares about winning her back, as if she’s a conquest to be gained. 

Of course, she can’t place all of the blame on Neal. Hook had been behaving just as stupidly in the Dark Hollow, trying to prove himself by fighting over something as trivial as a lighter. But she isn’t really expecting much more from him. He may have taken one for the team by bringing them all here on his ship, allying himself against Pan, and helping them navigate the island, but at the end of the day, he’s just a pirate, and Emma knows that. That’s why she keeps finding herself surprised when he does anything more than the bare minimum, which seems to be quite frequently since they set sail after her son.

But the fact is, Neal is Henry’s father, and she was hoping that would be more of a motivator for him than the potential to _win_ Emma back. She and Neal had a history, sure. Neal should have the background information necessary to know exactly what Emma would want and where her loyalties would lie. And as much as it pains her to admit, because she truly does love him, he doesn’t seem to be able to see past his own thoughts and feelings for her.

He says he wants what’s best for her, but he doesn’t even know what that is. She told him her feelings wouldn’t change, hell, she literally told him that she wished he had _died_ , and he still said that he wouldn’t stop fighting for her. What makes him think she wants him to fight for her? What makes him think he had ever started fighting in the first place?

So, when Neal says he wants to stop for water and to relieve himself on their way back to Tink’s, Emma doesn’t object to a short break. She feels as though she had worked off her frustrations with the arduous walk through the trees, leading the way and setting a fairly fast pace. She sits on a rock as Neal steps away from the group of three, leaving just Emma and Hook alone with the noisy, humid jungle.

“I apologize, Emma,” he starts softly. “I realize that my foolish actions could have placed your son at risk, and for that I am truly sorry.”

Emma isn’t surprised to hear Hook’s voice through the sounds of the birds and insects surrounding them. “You put yourself at risk, too. That was stupid, Hook. How the hell are we supposed to get off this island without you to sail the ship back to Storybrooke?”

He smirks slightly, breathing out a soft sigh and taking out his leather covered flask. “I’m sure you would have found a way. Bae was rather skilled at captaining, back in the day.”

Emma rolls her eyes, grabbing the flask when he offers it to her as he sits down on the same rock. “Well, that plan would have been foiled too if the both of you had your shadows ripped from your bodies. Then the only option would be to have the Dark One sail us home.” He narrows his eyes at her and takes the flask back. She can tell that he knows she’s joking but hopes that he can see her point.

“The Dark One is lucky to have a place on my ship at all. There is not a chance in all the realms that he steps foot behind the wheel.”

She scoffs lightly. “Remember that next time you want to try and impress me by doing something dumb.”

“Your wish is my command, love.” She expects to see a smirk on his face, but instead is met with his eyes making contact with hers, looking serious under his dark brows.

She stands up again, unable to sit still. She’s still keyed up from earlier in the Dark Hollow, and she feels herself getting jittery and restless after not moving for a few moments.

Hook can apparently read her quite well, because he stands as well and offers her another swig from the flask. “You’ve got to calm down a bit, Swan. Perhaps I should go and fill your canteen as well?”

“No,” she answers immediately, surprising herself. “I mean, I’m okay. I have enough water, just… stay here.” She’s not sure what the hell has gotten into her, but suddenly the thought of being left alone in the jungle makes her skin crawl.

He smirks again, raising a brow before saying, “as you wish, Swan.” She half expected him to respond with some sort of brazen flirty comment, but instead he’s silent for a few moments.

“Did you mean it?” she asks after a while, without giving any indication to what she’s referring.

“Mean what, love?”

“When you said you’d win my heart without any trickery?”

He quirks his brows again and responds, “yes, does that surprise you?”

“I mean, a little bit. I don’t know. I guess you haven’t really given me much of a reason to doubt you, at least since we’ve been here.”

He hums thoughtfully, dragging his thumb and forefinger against his bottom lip in a pinch. “Now, I wonder, is it a surprise to you because of who you perceive me to be, or because of the relationships you’ve kept in the past?”

It’s her turn to shoot one brow up into her hairline, cocking her head to the side at his statement. “That’s awfully bold of you.”

He takes a step closer to her before taking the flask back and drawing a sip from it, his eyes never leaving hers and his tongue licking his lips when he finishes. “Just my observations, Swan. Don’t think I didn’t hear your admission in the Echo Caves.”

He truly can read her like a book. Not only did he hear what she said to Neal, he’s also realizing that it’s impacting her willingness to let him into her life now. It’s pissing her off, for sure, but it’s also affecting her in a way with which she’s not familiar.

“So, I’ve been in shitty relationships, so what?”

“So,” he says, cocking his head in the same direction as she did hers, moving a piece of hair away from her face with his hook gently grazing her forehead, leaving a trail of flames in its wake. “It’s holding you back. Your relationship with Bae ended badly, even before this time when you thought him dead. I don’t need to know exactly what happened to see that as true. You don’t want to let your walls down for someone else because of whatever it was that happened between the two of you all those years ago. I’d even go as far as to wager that it has something to do with Henry.”

“You’re quite perceptive, Captain,” she says, reaching her hand up to boldly tap on his temple, unable to stop herself from attempting to use humor as a distraction. “What are you gonna do about it?”

“Well, to start,” he begins, answering her more seriously than she expects, “I suppose I’ll simply continue to work to make myself worthy of you until you finally trust that I’m not going to hurt you. I’ll respect you and support you and I won’t hold you back from achieving everything that I know you're capable of.” She draws her brows together thoughtfully. His face is so serious, and it’s throwing her off to see that he isn’t joking.

“That’s just to start?” she asks, her voice breathy and her chest heaving faster as he gets closer to her with each step forward.

“Aye, love. The rest will come with time, as I continue to get to know you, and you me; as I learn what you need and deserve in a partnership.”

Her eyelids feel heavy as she feels his warm breath brush over her face. “A partnership?” she nearly whispers.

“Yes, that’s what I foresee us having together. You and I as equal partners.”

She couldn’t stop herself if she tried. She grabs at his collar again and pulls his lips to hers in a scorching kiss. She immediately feels his mouth opening up to hers, his tongue dragging along the inner side of her top lip before he sucks on it gently. She groans into his mouth and attempts to pull him closer, reaching her hands into his hair and tugging to illicit a groan from him as well.

His hand moves to her jaw as he breathes her in and kisses her deeper still. She wants to feel closer to him, _needs_ to get closer, and she starts to raise one knee up along the inside of his thigh until he breathes out a groan into her mouth again. She feels him pushing her gently backwards until her back is pressed against a tree, and she’s able to lift her same knee around the outside of his thigh until he takes the hint and lifts her, hook reaching behind her left knee and hand slapping playfully against her ass once her body is braced between himself and the trunk.

She moans breathily into him again, tugging on his hair when she feels his hardness pressing between her thighs, right where she wants him. She thinks she could let this go on forever, doesn’t even feel guilty about it as she thought she would, and he breathes out her name to her before biting her bottom lip.

“ _Fuck_ ,” she exhales as his mouth travels from her lips to her jaw to the sensitive spot right below her ear, biting and sucking on the skin gently and licking over it to soothe the sharp, delicious pain his teeth and lips have caused. With his hook still braced under her knee and his body effectively pressing her to the tree, he reaches his hand around her front and under her thin shirt, hovering it lightly over her breast before she presses herself into his palm.

“Tell me what you want, Emma, and I swear I’ll give it to you.” His voice is absolutely sinister, deep and rumbling in his chest as he speaks against her collarbone.

“Oh god,” she says, and he responds with a chuckle.  
  


“No, you can call me Killian, darling.” She breathes out a chuckle before another moan is drawn from her as he moves his hand lower, down her torso and landing just above the zipper of her jeans. “Here?” he asks as his fingers deftly trail lower, over her pants and landing exactly where she wants him.

She almost has a chance to respond-- she plans on giving him attitude, as she knows that he’s teasing her-- but she suddenly hears her name, and not in the way that she had hoped; not from him.

“Emma, what the _hell_?!” Neal was back, and Emma was hoisted against a tree with Killian practically fucking her with their clothes on.

_Uh oh._

Hook drops her gently, careful to unhook himself from her leg safely before he takes a small step back. He refuses to turn around and barely looks her in the eyes. Emma’s eyes are bugging out of her head as she struggles to regain her breathe, and when she looks down, she notes exactly why Hook isn’t turning his body in Neal’s direction.

“I-” she starts, but it’s as if her brain has completely shut down and no words will come out.

“We’re in the middle of the damn jungle and I step away for five minutes, and here you are with _him?_ What the fuck is wrong with you? The whole reason for us being here is to get _our_ son back and you’re fucking making out with another guy? Are you deranged?”

She see’s something flick in Hooks eyes and he turns suddenly, either relieved of his (fairly sizable) erection or no longer caring whether or not Neal saw it. “Don’t speak to her that way,” he says, his voice rumbling in his chest for an entirely new reason. She can picture his dark eyes glaring into Neal and it sends a shiver down her spine.

“Don’t you get involved, Hook. This is a private conversation between me and Emma.”

“Obviously not, mate, since more than one person was involved in what you're currently loudly berating her for.”

“I don’t need your input on this, _pirate_! You certainly don’t need to speak for Emma, I’m sure she’s capable of defending herself.”

“I don’t need to be defended, Neal, what the hell?”

“Obviously you need some kind of intervention, Ems, or else you wouldn’t be making such a stupid mistake right now!” Emma backs away farther from him, pressing herself protectively against the same tree, astonished at the words that are coming from his mouth. “Seriously, you scream at me over _endangering myself_ and letting my feelings get in the way of the mission, when you're doing the exact same thing with a dirty pirate!”

“I don’t have to explain myself to you because I’m not actively putting anyone’s life at risk by kissing someone who isn’t you!”

He scoffs, seemingly forgetting the Hook was even there with them during this conversation, and says, “What, so you think this is a good use of your time while we should be out searching for _our son_? Emma, how can you do something so selfish when your family needs you right now?” She doesn’t miss his meaning. She knows that he thinks that the three of them are a family, and that in him catching her with Killian, she has violated his trust.

She feels her guilt, the same guilt that he instilled in her all those years ago, rearing its ugly head in response to his words. A part of her, the part that she hasn’t seen in a decade, tells her that he’s right. In some way, she was being selfish by wasting time with Hook when she could be out searching for Henry. But on the other hand, Neal has no claim to her. He abandoned any semblance of ownership he may have perceived himself to have over her in Phoenix eleven years ago.

“I don’t need this. I’m a grown woman and I don’t need you to stand here and yell at me like I’m a child.”

“Emma, the chances of us actually succeeding and getting Henry off this fucking island are already slim. We really don’t need you getting distracted and messing everything up.”

She thinks back to Killian’s words only moments ago, when he told her she would succeed. He was so serious in that moment, when Emma was doubting herself and her ability to save Henry. It was as if he had not a single doubt that she could do it, and she believed him. Now, well, now she just felt like shit.

Without saying a word, she breathes out heavily and shoves past the both of them, making her way back towards the camp.

~~~~

Henry’s safe. Henry is safe. _Henry is safe._

She continues to repeat it to herself like a mantra as she clings to the rail of the ship, her knuckles turning white and her nails digging crescents into the wood. She no longer needs to be on edge; doesn’t need to jump at any little sound or reach for a weapon when she sees someone approaching out of the corning of her eye.

More importantly, she doesn’t need to feel the constant weight of anxiety on her chest over the safety of her son. He’s just below her, sleeping in the captain’s quarters, and she can breathe easily now.

Knowing this to be true and actually believing it are two completely different things, she finds.

She does jump then, when she sees his figure advance towards her from her left. His blue shirt is wrinkled, and his hair is greasy, and his face is covered in dirt. She fights back the feelings of irritation and resentment that sit in the pit of her stomach, trying to maintain an air of civility towards the man she once thought she would love for the rest of her life. The man she hates herself for still loving, even if it’s just a little bit.

“Hey,” he says, resting against the same rail as her.

“Hey,” she responds, keeping her body facing towards the glistening sea hundreds of feet below them.

“You okay?” he asks, and she fights off the scoff that threatens to escape her lips.

“Yeah,” _No._ “You?”

“We got Henry back. I knew you could do it, Ems.” Though she isn’t facing him, she knows he can likely read her body language enough to tell that she’s angry when she goes stiff and her fingers dig deeper into the timber of the rail.

“Yeah.” She can barely contain herself, anger bubbling at the surface as she remembers everything that happened in Neverland. Every time he doubted her magic, doubted her.

“Look, Em, I just want you to know, when we get back to Storybrooke, I’m sticking around. I meant what I said earlier in the jungle, I’m not going anywhere. You and Henry need me, and I swear I’m not gonna abandon either of you.”

“Again,” she nearly whispers, kicking herself as the word escapes from her mouth. She so doesn’t feel like arguing right now, and yet…

“What’d you say?” he turns his body to face her.

She thinks about being placid. About saying _Nothing_ and moving on. But her mind is still running a mile a minute and she feels like anything he said could have set her off. It’s as if she’s wound so tightly from the stress she’s feeling that she’s about to snap in two. So, while she may have made a different decision if she was thinking more rationally, she fights.

“You aren’t going to abandon us _again_. Is that what you mean?” she turns toward him now, her brows set as if to challenge him to disagree. Which, of course, he does.

“I said I was sorry, Emma. You can’t keep living in the past like this. If I had known about Henry then--”

“But you knew about me, Neal! You knew I was in jail for _your_ crime, and you left me! Hell, you even tipped off the cops! You abandoned me in there, and you moved on! You told me you loved me and then you knocked me up and left me to deal with it at _seventeen_ while I was in _prison!_ ”

He appears to be stunned to silence, not moving much but looking around quickly to see if anyone had heard her not-so-subtle outburst. “It’s like I said, I’m sorry that that happened, but it was so long ago. I can’t change what happened between us, all I can do is say that I’m sorry and hope that we can move past it. And besides, it seems like you handled things just fine-- you didn’t even keep Henry.”

She scoffs now, unable to even think of a response. _How dare he?_ She knows she can’t move past this, no matter what feelings she may still be harboring for him. No matter what, she knows the primary emotion she has for him is anger.

Not for the first time, she huffs a breath and pushes past him, making her way down the narrow steps and onto the lower deck before descending below, not bothering to look back at him, hoping he isn’t dumb enough to follow her.

Once she gets below deck, she stands still for a few moments, focusing on evening out her breaths. She isn’t sure what she’s doing or where she’s going. She knows that her parents, Regina, and Gold were sleeping in the crew’s cabin, and she certainly doesn’t feel like seeing any of them now. She could go to the captain’s cabin and check in on Henry, but she doesn’t want him to see her this angry. She feels fire in her veins when she hears footsteps descending in her wake, and rolls her eyes as she spins too quickly, practically ready to pull Neal off the steps and physically fight him at this point, until she notices the dark leather coat making its descent.

“Hook,” she says, feeling somewhat surprised, but more so at the fact that she wasn’t very surprised at all to see him.

“Swan,” he returns, nodding his head in her direction, kinking an eyebrow up just enough. “Looking for a place to sleep? I’m sure your boy wouldn’t mind sharing the captain’s quarters.”

“No,” she replies too quickly. “I mean, I can’t sleep right now.”

“I see, too high strung to relax, are we?” The way he says it, with a clear implication that he would volunteer to help her relax, nearly drives her mad.

“Yeah. I don’t suppose you have any more rum on board?”

He hums lightly as a soft smile graces his face, moving around her and walking away. “This way, love.”

He leads her down the slim hallway towards a door that opens into a small room, the very same one in which he gave her Neal’s cutlass their last time on the ship. Once they arrive, he gestures towards the bench and pulls out a bottle of rum from a small storage cubby.

“Thanks,” she says as she takes the glass he offered and pours a hefty amount in. “So, if you’re down here, who’s steering the ship?”

“Actually, Baelfire volunteered. It would seem he’s retained many of the skills required to captain the finest ship in all the realms, even after all these years.” She fights against her strong desire to roll her eyes and shoots back another swig of rum.

“You two seem to have a pretty strange dynamic,” she states passively, deliberating the fact that they knew each other hundreds of years ago, when Neal was a kid and Hook was the same age he is now. She watches as he takes a seat on a bench across from her.

“Aye,” he answers, “perhaps as strange as yours.”

She nearly chokes on her rum, snorting slightly and feeling a burn in the back of her throat at his audacious response. “You heard that, then?”

“I heard enough.”

“Enough to come down here and offer me a drink,” she says with a laugh and roll to her eyes.

“Actually, Swan, I think you’ll find that I did not make such an offer. More like you assuming and taking advantage of my plentiful supply,” he says lightly, clearly joking.

“I can’t believe what a dick he is.” She really didn’t plan on talking it out with him, but he’s made it so easy. He leans over towards her with his flask raised, offering to pour another ounce of rum into her glass, seemingly unphased by her quick change of subject.

“It would appear that Baelfire and Neal are two separate people indeed.” She shrugs lightly, taking another draw from her glass as he does the same. “I’m sorry, Emma. For what he did.”

She’s somewhat shocked to hear her name from his lips but moves past it quickly. “Ah, so you did hear everything.”

“I was standing at the helm, not very far from the two of you, so I’ll admit that it was difficult not to. I apologize for eavesdropping.” He’s being sincere.

“He said he knew I could do it, but he was lying. When we were in Neverland, he said I couldn’t. He said the chances that we would get Henry off the island were slim. He’s always doubted me. Do you know why I went to jail?”

He seems surprised at her question, raising an eyebrow while he raises his glass to his lips. She’s staring, and she doesn’t try to stop herself.

“Neal stole a bunch of watches from a jewelry store and stashed them at a train station locker. I went to the station to get them since he had a wanted poster floating around, and once I had them, he gave one to me. And when I went to the meeting site, after he was supposed to fence the watches a pick me up, the cops were waiting for me. He set me up. He called the cops on me and told them where I’d be.”

“Love,” she doesn’t look at his face, taking the rest of her rum in her mouth before she continues.  
  


“He could’ve just left. He didn’t have to call the cops. He didn’t have to have me sent to jail for something he did. And then I had Henry while I was still in jail and he has the nerve to shove the fact that I gave him up in my face up there!” Hook moves in his seat, standing suddenly and walking the few feet across the room to sit down next to her. He brought the flask with him, but she and he both know that she doesn’t need any more.

“Emma, I had no idea.”

“Why would you?”

“Obviously I knew that Henry calls both you and Regina his mother, but I didn’t realize that was the reason for it. I’m sorry, love.”

“You don’t have to say that you’re sorry.”

“I may not have any idea what it’s like to be a parent, but I have witnessed the impacts of leaving a child behind, for whatever reason. When Milah left with me, she abandoned Bae. Although she wasn’t exactly emotionally fit to parent him at the time, I saw what it did to her. And she didn’t leave him for such selfless reasons as you did when you let Henry go.” His tone is soft and comforting, completely lacking judgement towards her.

“You think what I did was selfless?” she asks, scoffing.

“Aye, you were merely giving him his best chance at a prosperous life, I’d assume. And despite that, I can see that it’s had an influence on you. I’m sorry for that.”

Like an open book.

She racks her brain to remember whether she’s said this around him, perhaps to her parents, or maybe even to Regina. But she can’t come up with an instance where he would know that that was why she gave him up.

“You really loved her, didn’t you?”

“Aye, with every bit of my heart.”

She nods lightly, casting her eyes down to the floor. “Then I’m sorry you lost her.”

“Thank you, Swan, but it was long ago. And I meant what I said in the Echo Caves.” She figured they would have this conversation eventually; she just wasn’t sure if she was ready to have it off of the back end of a fight with her ex.

Rather than say anything, she looks back up at him to meet his blue eyes with hers, noting the depth of their color and how closely they mirrored the sea of which he was so fond. The emotion that he conveyed with just a single look to her was overwhelming, and she suddenly feels her breath catching in her lungs and her chest compressing on her tattered heart.

She places her cup down on the bench that they were sharing and clears her throat, speaking cautiously, worried that if she raises her voice much high than a whisper, she would ruin the relaxed mood that he brought into the room with him. “You know when you said that I would have to choose, and I said I pick Henry?”

She sees his Adams apple bob up and down with a gulp and hears his breathing hitch before he says, “Aye.”

“Well,” she takes a beat, “I’m not saying that I’m choosing you. I’m still putting Henry first. But you should know… Neal isn’t really in the running anymore.”

“Emma,” he says, shifting his body so that his right hand can reach across himself and brush a bit of hair away from her face, “I would never ask you to put me above Henry. I would never expect that from you.”

She feels herself relaxing into his touch, and while she feels calmer now than she has in days, there’s a part of her that has ignited and set her entire body ablaze, burning with a fever of desire and longing. “How do you always say the perfect thing?” she asks, without meaning to speak at all.

He chuckles softly, his fingers still delicately dancing through her hair and along her scalp as he says, “hundreds of years of practice.”

“I’m sure you have a lot of practice with other things as well,” she ventures, smirking up at him and fighting the urge to plunge her fingers into his chest hair.

“I suppose you're right, love. I am a man of many talents, with plenty of time to hone my skills.”

She laughs lightly, softly, then says, “I can vouge for at least two of your orally-related talents.”

It’s his turn to smirk, his left brow shooting up and his right shadowing his cerulean eye. “Name a time and place, love, and I’ll show you a few more.” She draws in a breath and bites her lower lip involuntarily, then catches his eyes glimpsing down to her mouth.

Without thinking, she does what she’s done each time they meet like this, grasping onto the lapels of his greatcoat and drawing his lips to her. Only this kiss is soft and soothing, with fire burning just below the surface. His lips are gentle on hers as his hand moves through her hair again, and she feels his hook pressing into the outside of her right thigh as if to ground himself. The way he kisses her is overwhelming in that it doesn’t overwhelm her; she can feel the emotion behind his mouth as he draws his tongue along her bottom lip, and she doesn’t mind.

He breaks away from her gently, his fingers caressing her jaw and cheek and chin as his nose brushes against hers. She’s completely breathless, and she doesn’t even realize that her hands are knotted through his hair at the back of his head.

“So much for a one-time thing, aye love?” She breathes out something between a sigh and a laugh but doesn’t pull away from his touch. He doesn’t try to remove his hand from her, either.

“I guess I lied,” she says, gently running her hands through his messy hair.

“I know you said you aren’t making a decision now, love. I want you to know that’s alright. I’ll follow your lead.”

She nods softly, his nose still touching hers lightly as she breathes in the rum on his breath, before moving towards him and kissing him again.

This kiss, unlike the last, was heated and passionate. Her fingers tug at his hair some more, one hand moving from the back of his head up to the top while the other made its way down his neck and to his chest. She feels his hand moving back into her hair as well, pulling softly, just enough to elicit a groan from her. His tongue slips past her lips and strokes gently along her upper lip before she feels the sharp sting of his teeth biting down, another groan sneaking out of her throat. She responds in kind by sucking his lower lip lightly into her mouth.

“What do you want, Swan?” he asks again, and he sounds just as wrecked as she feels, his voice gruff and his cheeks flushed when she pulls away briefly.

She could say anything, could pushed him away and run as she so often does, but something feels different. Something feels _right._

“You,” she says simply, pecking his lips with hers once more. “I don’t know exactly what I want to happen with us, when we get back home, but I know I want you right now.”

He obliges almost immediately, diving forward and taking her in his arms in an embrace that feels almost more emotional than she’s ready for. While she first expects it to scare her, she instead finds herself sinking into his arms and letting him hold her as he kisses her fiercely and then she falls, her back landing against the hard, wooden bench and his weight settling on top of her as she hears the crash of the glass and flask hitting the ground.

Her legs spread enough to allow the weight of him to settle between them, and she can already feel him prodding her inner thigh. His arm strokes up her side until his hand lands on her left breast, and she can feel the cold metal of his hook settling on her side just under her shirt. Her hand plunges into his hair again, tugging to draw a moan from him, while her other grips onto the triceps of his left arm and appreciates the rippling of his muscles. He wasn’t exactly the most jacked man she’s ever seen, but seeing the light definition of his muscles under his shirt at night in the jungle was enough for her to feel her cheeks flush.

He’s being gentle, and she’s so keyed up from everything that has happened that she almost becomes frustrated. Rather than voice her thoughts, she pushes him away lightly and grips the bottom of her shirt, tugging it off of her and exposing her sports bra to him. It may not be the sexiest garment, but he seems appreciative enough, a smirk gracing his face as he looks down at her before attempting to push it aside and feel her breast with his hand. He’s stopped thought, the tight fabric giving him very little room for movement. She can see the cogs turning in his head as he reaches behind her, checking for laces or straps or a clasp, she isn’t sure.

“How the bloody hell does this thing work,” he huffs, pulling lightly and giving her an irritated look.

She laughs jovially before sitting up slightly and reaching her arms over herself to haul the tight raiment over her head. She always did hate taking them off, and she can feel herself squishing her face in the unforgiving fabric. It makes her laugh harder, and she hasn’t felt this light during such activities for as long as she can remember.

The levity of the situation fades quickly once she’s bare to him, and she can see the change in his eyes as the fire ignites again before he moves his head down to take a nipple between his lips. She feels his tongue swirling against her right breast while his hand reaches the other again, pinching her nipple between his fingers.

She gasps, her fingers still laced through his hair, tugging lightly on him. She feels his hook drawing down her body and tracing along the edge of her jeans as she moans again. “Hook,” she breathes out, pulling his hair. He removes his mouth from her and looks up to her face, his cheeks and ears reddened. “More.”

He sits up and pulls away from her in order to get a better angle at her jeans, undoing the button and zipper with one deft hand and pulling them down unceremoniously. He keeps her panties where they are, leaving her almost completely naked in front of him. She suddenly realizes how unfair this is, as all she can see is his dark chest hair and the outline of his erection through his leather trousers. Reaching up, she pulls on the laces and hopes it’s enough to get her point across.

He throws his greatcoat off of himself and onto the ground, then moves to hook his aptly named appendage in her underwear and she can feel the cold metal pressing against her coarse blonde hair. She lets out a surprised gasp at the sensation as he hovers over her clit, not quite meeting her where she needs him. She reaches out again and pulls on his shirt, not bothering (or needing) to undo any more buttons before she pulls it over his head, and she’s met with his defined torso. His muscles are rippling through his arousal, and the sight of his fair skin covered in dark hair that trails into his pants makes her sweat.

“Take these off,” she demands, gesturing towards his leather trousers. “This better not be like that episode of Friends. I don’t have any baby powder on me.”

“What the bloody hell are you talking about, Swan?” he breathes out roughly before reaching back down and marking her breast with his mouth, dragging a slow moan past her lips.

“Never mind, just please take those off and fuck me.” His eyes darken somehow as he reaches down and unlaces his pants, pulling them off smoothly and exposing his erection to her, finally.

Before she could take too much time to admire him, he’s sliding down the expanse of her body and trailing soft, gentle kisses in his wake. He stops occasionally to suck on the skin of her breasts, her stomach, her hips, before dragging his hook through her underwear again and tugging them down her legs. Her arousal draws out in a glistening strand as he pulls them off of her, and she hears him growl in response to how wet she is.

“Absolutely bloody gorgeous,” he murmurs, his breath hot against her. “May I have a taste, darling?”

“ _God,_ yes, please do.” He obliges quickly, and she cries out much louder than she intended to when she finally feels his tongue on her.

His hundreds of years of experience certainly do pay off. Never in her life has she had an experience quite like this. Even though he’s never touched her, it’s as if he’s known her body for centuries. Each move of his tongue and lips has her drawing nearer and nearer to what she can only assume will be the fiercest orgasm she’s ever felt. He continues to lick through her folds, paying attention to fucking her with his tongue before dragging it back up and sucking her clit into his mouth. When his middle finger finally enters her with no resistance, she cries out again at the sensation of his finger curling into her and his cold ring sitting just outside, all while his tongue continues to work its magic. She sees now that when she joked about him being orally talented, she didn’t realize just how right she was.

He adds a second finger, curling them both delightfully as he continues to nip and suck and lick at her, and its mere moments before she feels herself clenching tightly around him, ready to explode with pleasure as he draws her closer and closer to her release. When she finally does come, she thinks she must be astral projecting; her soul has left her body and is looking back down at her writhing form as he works her through the most pleasurable, intense sensation she’s ever experienced.

If she was conscious, she would notice the way he sucks his fingers into his mouth to clean her off of them. She would also notice just how hard he was just from making her come, his hips rutting lightly against the bench, although that couldn’t be too comfortable.

When she finally feels her soul reentering her body, she allows herself to look down at him as he moves up to her side and kisses her mouth sweetly. She expects to see an amatory smirk but is met instead with a soft smile and kind eyes. His hand runs along her side as she feels her breathing start to even out, although she’s still panting.

“You weren’t kidding about practice, huh?”

“I’m glad you enjoyed yourself, Swan,” he says, his smile still gracing his features.

“Enjoyed? We aren’t finished here, Hook.”

He takes this as a signal from her and leans back down to her, meeting her mouth with his. Before he has a chance to take over, she presses on his shoulders until he’s on his back and straddles his hips with her own, feeling his erection pressing between her folds and into her clit as she rocks back and forth. It draws a lewd moan from his lips, and she can’t help but lean down and kiss him fiercely as she continues to moisten his cock with her own arousal. She’s not sure she’ll survive actually having sex with him if this is this good.

His hand is moving wildly along her body, squeezing at her hip and massaging her ass as she continues to roll her hips against him. Rather than continue to torture the two of them, she finally reaches between them and angles him upward, moving his length along the outside of her entrance before pressing herself down onto him. The two of them groan in synchronicity at the feeling of him filling her up so effortlessly, so flawlessly. She remains relatively still for a moment, enjoying the feeling of his thick cock pressed inside her, before she starts to rock over him, throwing her head back until her long hair scrapes his knees.

“Fuck, Killian, so good.”

“Say it- agh, fuck. Say it again, love.”

She doesn’t have to ask what he means. When they were in the jungle together, he told her that she can call him Killian. She hasn’t until now, and it appears he appreciates the effort.

“Killian,” she says, rocking faster, her thighs burning as she hops up and down and back and forth along his length. “Ah! Shit,” she cries out when he shifts under her, his knees coming up to give him the leverage he needs to fuck up into her.

They continue like this, her rolling over him and him thrusting upwards into her, for several minutes before he draws his hand to where they meet and presses his thumb to her clit, causing her to cry out once more. “God, Killian, don’t stop. Right there, don’t stop,” she begs, only he does stop briefly enough to take her in his arms again and flip them both over. He’s sitting back on his knees now and she’s still straddling him, but the new angle, with her sitting upon his thighs and her legs behind his, sends him deeper into her and drives her closer to the edge. Before she can do it herself, he reaches his hand back to where she needs him, the curve of his hook pressing into her lower back to stabilize her as he continues to fuck into her and she continue to ride him at this new angle.

“Emma, you're so good. You're so tight and wet, _gods_ keep doing that, love. I love the way you move on me.” She never thought she would be into dirty talk, but hearing Hook- no, _Killian_ \- praise her like this is driving her insane with lust and bringing her even closer to her release. She’s nearly there when she feels his mouth meet her neck, right at the pulse below her ear, sucking hard enough to surely leave a mark, but she doesn’t care because she’s over the edge again, careening towards absolute bliss.

She thinks she’s shouting, or at least moaning and swearing very loudly, but she absolutely can’t bring herself to care. In order to muffle the sounds coming from her, he meets her mouth with his again, kissing her as she tumbles over the edge. She comes hard, and she knows that with her walls tightening around him, he’s close. She squeezes one last time and feels him empty himself into her in hot ropes, relishing the feeling of him inside of her, of his cock continuing to pump into her with the added sensation of his release.

She feels him planting soft kisses along her cheeks, jaw, down her neck, over her collar bone as she comes down, easing her back into the sensation of feeling anything other than him and her powerful orgasm. “Fuck,” she finally says, her legs still wrapped around his middle as his cock softens slightly inside her.

“Aye, seems like that was needed, love.”

She laughs lightly, breathlessly, before unwrapping her legs from him and pressing her hands into his shoulders to get enough leverage to remove herself and sit back on the bench. Once she’s off of him, she lies down, her chest still heaving. She feels a soft, calloused hand touch her stomach gently before he stands and turns, giving her a nice view of his ass. She wonders for a second where he could be going, until he’s back with a small cloth, handing it over to her and using a second to clean himself. She takes it and does the same, then notices him standing awkwardly in front of her before she speaks.

“Are you gonna sit down? Or was this more of a hit it and quit it type of thing?”

“What a crass statement, Swan,” he says, although she can see the humor and relief in his eyes as he sits back down beside her. She can’t fight the smile growing on her face.

“I guess you were right about me needing to relax.”

“Aye, it was quite obvious how high strung you were, love.”

“Ho- Killian,” she says, drawing the conversation from light to serious. “I don’t regret that, but…”

“You’d rather keep it between us?”

She smiles softly at his understanding, at the fact that he always seems to know her. “At least for now. Is that okay?”

“Of course, love,” he says, leaning down and kissing her nose chastely. He pauses there, as if wondering whether the action was alright with her. She confirmes that it is by catching his lips in hers once more, kissing him one last time before she stands to get dressed.

“Swan?” he asks after a few moments, when they're both dressed and ready to leave the small room and show their faces on the ship once more. She should maybe reconsider, based on the bruise forming just under her ear, but she lets bygones be bygones.

“Yeah?”

“What’s an _episode of Friends_?”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for taking the time to read this! I know it's kind of long for a one-shot, and maybe it's not the most realistic portrayal of Emma, but oh well! It's highly likely that I expand upon this universe so perhaps keep a look out for more? Follow me on tumblr @elizabeethan for any updates etc. and feel free to drop a comment or to send me a message on tumblr :)  
> (Also this is my first time writing smut so pls be nice to me 👉👈)


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